


Sweet the Sin

by pianoforeplay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:32:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pianoforeplay/pseuds/pianoforeplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam makes cupcakes and Dean makes a mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet the Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Ages aren't specified, but Sam is definitely in high school. Initially posted [here](http://pianoforeplay.livejournal.com/39153.html) on 11/01/2011.

Sam's more than a little winded when he finally manages to disentangle himself from Dean's grasp, sticky hair matted to his forehead and shirt soaked through with sweat and who-the-fuck-knows what else. Dean doesn't appear to be faring much better, his chest heaving with every breath, though his lips are still twisted into a lopsided, shit-eating grin.

Swiping the back of his stick hand across his chin, Sam takes in the scene around them, feels a laugh bubble free as he exhales. "Holy shit."

"You started it," Dean says.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"If by _started_ , you mean I was minding my own business, sure," Sam argues. He can't help his smile as he says it, though. Nor the thrill that runs down his spine when Dean's grin only widens.

"You were baking," Dean says as he lifts a hand to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick at the batter still clinging to his fingertips. " _Baking_. Seriously, Sam. How the hell was I supposed to resist?"

"Dad's gonna kill us."

"Dad ain't gonna be back for another week or so, doofus. Pretty sure we'll have it cleaned up by then."

" _You'll_ have it cleaned up by then," Sam corrects even as he crouches to pick one of the glass mixing bowls up off the floor. It's miraculously still in one piece, though the frosting it'd held at one time is pretty much a lost cause, streaks of red painting the kitchen floor like a crime scene. "I'm supposed to have a dozen cupcakes for tomorrow, Dean; I'll be lucky if I can make _two_ out of what I have left."

He drops the bowl onto the counter with a sigh and then dips a finger into it, scooping out a dollop of the red remnants. It's a cream cheese frosting Sam had made from scratch and colored with red food dye, and it's pretty damn good if Sam says so himself. Not too sweet or too rich. Totally A-worthy work for sure. Mrs. Calloway would love it.

Not that it matters now thanks to his imbecile of a brother.

"We could just grab some from the bakery off of Clements," Dean say, and Sam doesn't miss the way Dean's eyes stay locked on Sam's mouth the entire time.

Sam rolls his eyes and flicks his tongue over the pad of his finger at the same time. Testing. Says, "She'll know, Dean. She's not stupid."

"Stupid enough to make you bake _cupcakes_."

"Dude, it's Home Ec. That's kind of what you do."

"And how are cupcakes in any way useful toward the rest of your life, tell me that. You gonna whip up a few for the next poltergeist we come across?"

"No, I'll bake them for you, dumbass. Just to get you to shut up."

Dean opens his mouth to argue and then snaps it shut two seconds later. "You know, that's not a bad idea," he says and Sam snorts out a laugh and flicks a blob of red frosting straight at Dean's face. It lands on his cheek before Dean can even think to duck away, though the hand he brings up to shield himself instead smears it across his skin.

Time grinds to a halt then, Dean staring at Sam with incredulously and Sam not budging an itch. He's waiting for it, the tick in Dean's jaw, the bunch of his shoulders and then--

"You little--"

Sam's one step ahead, shoulders turning defensively as he dodges Dean's lunge. But Dean still manages to catch him by the arm, the hold slick and sticky with flour and sugar and frosting. Laughing, Sam twists and turns, tugging free just as his feet slip on the floor. His elbows hit the edge of the counter as his legs buckle and bend and Dean doesn't waste a second, landing heavily atop Sam half a second later, holding him in place as he brings his red-coated fingers to Sam's face.

Sam thrashes and twists his head, laughing and shouting in equal amounts. "Dean! _Dean!_ Fucker!!"

"Eat it, punk! _Eat it!_ " Dean shouts right back, eyes glinting bright green as he paints Sam's face in streaks of crimson.

Even while struggling violently, Sam can't stop laughing, fingers of one hand curled in Dean's shirt, the other wrapped around Dean's wrist, trying desperately to pull it away from his face.

"Should know better, Sammy," Dean says, still gleeful in his assault. "Can't mess with the master! Make you pay every time. Every single--"

His words cut short the second Sam gets his mouth around two of Dean's fingers.

"Mmm?" Sam says, grinning around the captured digits before sucking them in deeper. A swirl of tongue earns him the heady mix of sugary sweetness and Dean's earthy texture, and he closes his eyes with a groan as he sinks into it completely, practically slobbering in his attempt to lick his brother's fingers totally clean.

He only opens them again when Dean makes a quiet, choked sound in the back of his throat. Carefully, Sam eases back, Dean's fingers catching on his bottom lip before falling away entirely. They're both breathing heavy once more and Sam can feel the erratic thump-thump-thump of Dean's heartbeat against his own.

And then he has Dean's mouth, a crush of lips and teeth and tongue and he can't help but laugh yet again, the sound muffled and bitten away as Dean presses him back against the counter edge.

Dean slips a leg between Sam's thighs and a hand up under Sam's shirt and Sam groans and arches and tugs at Dean's bottom lip with his teeth. _Every single time_ , he thinks smugly as they get tangled up, messy and sticky and sweet as sugar.

Every single time.

 **end.**


End file.
